Spaghetti

 

Scott and I had been dating for about a month.  He lived in Darby, and I lived in Lolo, so we usually either met halfway in between for dinner or he would drive to Missoula and meet me somewhere for dinner after work.  One sunny spring Saturday at the end of April, Scott invited me to his house in Darby.  

I had not been, and vaguely knew where Darby was.  When he told me he lived in Darby, I thought for a moment, then asked, "That's the place with the candy store, yeah?"

That Saturday afternoon, I got in my car and drove to Darby.  As I got further down the valley and closer to his house, I felt my world shift again.  Something about this felt significant, just as it did when we were walking side by side down the hallway.  Something about this felt BIG.  

As I pulled into his driveway, he strode out of the house wearing his boyish grin.  When I got out of my car, he wrapped me in a bear hug and lifted me off my feet, and we both laughed.  He showed me around his house while we chatted.  We went outside for a while, continuing to visit, the conversation always flowing easily.  I felt so comfortable with him.  It felt easy.  We clicked.  We were the same in all the right ways and different in all the right ways.

Eventually, we took Maddie for a walk by the river.  He showed me some of his favorite spots along the way.  We watched bald eagles fly overhead as Scott threw a stick in the river for Maddie to fetch.  The sky was clear and blue, the sun was warm on our faces, and I was happier than I ever thought possible.  It was the perfect day.  

And then we went back to his house.  The afternoon had passed quickly, and we were both hungry for dinner.  We talked and laughed on the way home, enjoying each other's company.  We walked inside and went into the kitchen.  

"Do you want to cook something here?" Scott asked as he started opening cabinets.  "I have stuff to make spaghetti."

In that moment, I saw my future.  It was here, right here, with this wonderful, huge-hearted, brilliant, funny, creative, driven, Love-Of-A-Lifetime man.  My gut knew it.  My heart knew it.  My soul knew it.  He was it for me.  I had met my One, and I panicked.  My heart started racing, my palms got sweaty, and I felt shaky.  

"Um," I mumbled.  "Um, I have to go."  I ran out of the house.  I literally RAN out of the house.  I jumped in my car, backed out of the driveway, and sped away, dust and gravel flying in my wake.  I had a 50-minute drive back to Lolo, and on the drive, my thoughts jumbled.  

What the fuck?  What the fuck just happened?  I could see Scott's face as I told him I had to go, confusion and hurt playing tag with each other in his eyes.  What am I doing?  The panic subsided.  I shook my head in an attempt to clear the fog.  I realized consciously, for the first time, what my gut and my heart had known from the beginning.  Scott was my soul mate.  He was my One.  He was the beginning and the end for me.  I took a deep breath, exhaled slowly.  Another deep breath, slow exhale.  Then I started laughing.  Poor Scott.  I left him standing there in the kitchen with no idea what was happening, a bag of noodles in one hand and a jar of spaghetti sauce in the other.  The whole scene was ridiculous, and I laughed and laughed.  I couldn't wait to get home and call Scott.  I had to explain.

As soon as I parked in the driveway, I called him.  

"Hello?" he said hesitantly.

I started laughing again, then rushed through the explanation.  I told him how much I cared about him, and how much it scared me, how I loved the day we had just spent together, how perfect it was, and how being with him was my everything.  He listened quietly on the other end of the phone, letting me get out all the words I had in me.

Finally, I finished by asking, "Is that too much too soon?"

There was another long pause, then he laughed.  "No.  I just thought you didn't like spaghetti."